The Saga of Number 66
by MasterChiefTragedy
Summary: Prior to Minato meeting Musubi, Number 66 Mamoru was alone in the city. Due to a tragic event in his past he struggles with the meaning of his existence and the meaning behind the Sekirei plan. These chapters chronicle these events and emotions. I hope you enjoy reading this and I'll try and be regular about the releaases.
1. Meet No66

The wind whips through the night air and Mamoru has to shield his lighter from it just to make it hold a flame long enough to light his cigarette. He peers down at the city that is still so alive and bustling with activity this late at night. He imagines people stumbling through the streets after too much sake trying to find their way home or, more likely, into someone else's home. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes two large drinks. He grimaces from the burn of the alcohol and shakes his head to clear it of the sting. He looks down at the amber fluid and reads the label: Yamazaki single malt whisky. He takes another deep pull from the bottle that is now about half-empty. He laughs under his breath for a brief moment accepting the fact that he is one of those "bottle is half empty" types of people. He can feel the effects of the whisky gripping him and sways ever so slightly on his perch in one of the many partially constructed buildings of the city. He looks off to the right and the towering image of MBI looms in the distance. His smile fades immediately and he considers throwing the bottle at the tower but the stuff costs too much to do that. Besides, it is delicious.

His cigarette burns down to the filter and he tosses it off the building before reaching for another one. He pulls the pack of Mild Seven Original from the inside pocket of the US Navy pea coat he had come across in some thrift shop a while back along with his lighter. He takes note that he's only got four left before sticking one of the rolls of tobacco between his teeth and lighting it. He caps the bottle, sets it on the ground next to him, and sticks his hands in the pockets of his pea coat. He loses himself in thought. How long ago was it? It was more than a year ago that he met her and six months when he had to leave. He sits down on the ledge of the building and decides to fight the memory that is creeping in from the edges of his mind away. He is in no mood and a little too drunk for that.

The thought makes him instinctively reach back and touch the spot at the very top of his back where the red mark indicative of what he is. He appears human, requires food and water, and has human weaknesses but he is not human. He's never actually understood what he is. The people at the compound called him a "Sekirei" as if that meant anything to him at all. They told him that he was meant to be with one person, this person they referred to as his "ashikabi", would bring him happiness and fulfillment. That was his purpose, they told him, to find his ashikabi and fight for that person. He's grown to feel that they were full of shit. What happened if you found that person but couldn't protect her. He shakes his head to clear the thought, takes the bottle, and finishes it. He coughs from the burn of the whisky and burns down the rest of his cigarette. He stands, takes a deep breath, and steps off the ledge. He allows himself to plummet to the ground till he is about halfway down the building where the building has an exterior layer of brick when he shoves his hand out and digs it into the wall of the building. He immediately begins to slow down and comes to a full stop just a half meter above the ground. He drunkenly gazes up at the trench he had just dug into the wall. Somebody's going to be majorly pissed off about this but he couldn't care less. He lets go off the wall and drops to the sidewalk. He begins to walk with no destination in particular in mind.

What a pain everything is. And what is the fucking point of it all? All he does is get drunk all night and sleep all day. When was the last time he did anything meaningful at all? He had no reason to fight, no reason to do anything at all. He is often haunted by the images of what happened over six months ago. When was the last time he actually slept? He moved from bar to bar and hotel to hotel always alone and always isolating himself as far away from people as possible. He'd actually come to hate people, especially ashikabis who were happy with their sekirei. However, he was never driven to the point of instigating battles with any of them to satiate his own pain. Even when he was challenged to a battle he left the sekirei alive. He never lost, not a single time. He proved he was better, that the match was his, but he didn't kill them. He saw no point in it. They posed no threat to him and though he was in constant emotional agony he didn't feel the need to inflict the same pain on anyone else. There is only one that he terminated but that was about two-and-a-half months ago.

He stumbles along the sidewalk trying to light a cigarette. Other drunk people a gathered about in small groups smoking or singing some song off key. A young man and his girlfriend kiss passionately outside the door to an apartment and he makes a move to let himself in with her. She resists only but for a second and then drags him through the door and closes it eagerly. Down the street a short ways there is a group of about high school aged kids calling out to a group of girls that appear to be in college. The girls laugh at the boys' pathetic pickup lines and keep walking. A couple pause for a second to listen in on what the boys say before drunkenly turning around to join the couple that are most appealing to them. An unabashed cry of victory comes from the two that have been selected while the other four sulk off feeling the agony of defeat. Mamoru continues to walk while smoking cigarette after cigarette until his pack runs out. He takes his final drag as he arrives at the door to the hotel he's been staying at for the past few nights. He climbs the stairs slowly to the third floor and then stumbles down the hallway to his door. He fumbles for his key, opens the door, and flicks on the lights. He allows an exhausted sigh escape him as he sits down heavily on his bed.

He pulls the pea coat off and tosses it on the chair that occupies one of the corners of the room. He begins to peel off the black elastic cloth bandage that wraps around his fist and up his arm like that of a boxer. After that, he unhooks the buckle that rests on his chest and allows the small, black, leather sheath that holds his custom bo staff that extends 2.2 meters but can collapse down into a much more compact half meter. The sheath with the staff gets tossed onto the chair on top of the coat and with the wrist wrap. He bends over to pull off his black, steel-toed combat boots and tosses them against the wall followed by his black, sleeveless shirt. He stands, unbuttons his jeans, and walk to the bathroom, he splashes cold water on his face and looks into the mirror with glazed over, drunken eyes. The water drips from his short black hair and his dark blue eyes are rimmed with red from the alcohol and lack of sleep. He stands up and looks at his body. Coiled around his right bicep is an ornate ouroboros tattoo with the head of the dragon eating its own tail visible. On the left of his chest is a tattoo of a crouched tiger with the symbol for yayoi on its body to commemorate the month and year he was allowed to leave the compound. He looks down at his left wrist at two dates he has tattooed: 01/26/2011 and 05/14/2011. He dries his face off with the towel behind him and stumbles back to the bed after turning the light off in the room. He flops down on the bed and passes out almost instantly.

Mamoru wakes slowly the next day still groggy from the bottle of whisky from the night prior and his breath tastes of cigarettes. He looks at the clock next to the bed. It reads 12:49. He grunts, rolls over, and closes his eyes. They snap back open to the sudden aching pain of hunger. He grits his teeth, caught between the desire to sleep through the remainder of the hangover and to get up and look for food. He lies in bed for a moment longer before his stomach audibly rumbles for the second time and he forces himself up, cursing under his breath. He fumbles around the room and finds the door to the bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes off before getting under the shower. He allows the steaming hot water pour over him and wash away the minor aches in his muscles and the haze of alcohol that fogs his mind. He steps out of the bathroom after a solid thirty minutes and dries himself off followed by rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash. He slowly pulls his jeans on followed by his shirt, then the boots, the wrist wrap, and his bo staff. He instinctively touches the small plastic box clipped to the belt loop on the back of his jeans, allows his fingers to run from the tip of the plastic to the metal ring at the other end, and pulls the single kunai out. He allows it to shine in the overhead light and notices where there is an almost imperceptible dent. He runs his finger over it and recalls the pain that it represents to him. A voice plays in his mind, one from far in his past, of a girl he once called "sister" saying to him: "Always keep something hidden from view. Just in case. You may need it one day." She was the one who gave him one of her kunai that were originally issued to her by MBI before they were released…before the last time they ever spoke or saw each other. On one side there is "No. 67" etched in the blade. He spins the 20 cm throwing knife around his finger and quickly slides it back into its sheath. He grabs his pea coat and throws it on. He steps out of the room, locks the door behind him, and heads out of the apartment.

There is one upside to being attached to MBI that Mamoru could find: the MBI no-limit credit card issued to all sekirei when they are released into the city. He buys himself another pack of cigarettes and orders lunch at a local sushi restaurant. He orders enough food to eat his fill and starts his normal daily routine. He smokes down another cigarette as he makes his way to the spot where he begins his daily exercise.

He arrives at his location, snubs his cigarette, puts on his dark sunglasses, and launches himself straight up. At the peak of his leap he plants his feet against the wall and pushes off. He arches his back so that he can see the wall of the adjacent building. He grabs the protruding ledge of a window sill, forces his body vertical, and holds the handstand for a moment. He does 50 pushups in the same position in rapid succession and launches himself up on the last one. He sails vertically through the air for a few moments before tucking his knees to his chest and rotating through the air. The moment his heels touch the wall behind he pushes off to the wall in front of him. He continues to jump from wall to wall until he reaches the roof of one of the buildings. He lands gracefully on the ledge of the building behind him the same fashion as he has every day for the past six months. He gazes out at the city in every direction and decides what path he will run today. He finds one he hasn't done in a couple weeks, removes his coat, stretches for a second, and takes off running to the opposite side of the roof. He plants hard at the ledge and propels himself to the next roof that is over 10 meters away. He easily clears the distance and continues his run without missing a step. He continues from building to building until he reaches the construction site. He begins to pounce from beam to beam gracefully using his momentum to send his body gliding to his next destination without fail. He launches himself from the very top of the network of steel girders, tucks into a tight ball, and releases to slide perfectly trough a concrete pipe just wide enough for him to pass through and lands on a beam being lifted by a crane to it's place in the building's frame. He easily compensates for the shift due to his weight and continues to the next building. Workers watch the spectacle and are amazed by how he seems to plan every step of his run out despite the unpredictable variables in his path.

It is true that he has been gifted with a very acute sense of things. He seems to see things before they happen almost as if when he focuses completely that the rest of the world moves slower than his ability to react. He can almost predict where the next blow in a fight will come and has a certain omnipotence of his surroundings at any given moment. It allows for his graceful movements that never miss their target. He recalls often during these sprints across the rooftop the words of his adjuster. He can never recall the woman's name but she had these oddest eyes he has ever witnessed. They were shard but caring, cold and calculating but somehow affectionate. He was afraid of the looks that were often in those eyes but somehow maintained the ability to trust them despite the fear. She had told him once that he was going to be very special, he and his younger sister. There were often tested together and spent most of their time together before being released. She told him that he was being adjusted to be the perfect combat machine. He was to be athletically perfect in every way and had been given an augmentation that allowed him to instantly allowed him to plan out his next ten movements in a matter of seconds. He had no idea what the science behind it all meant even after it was explained to him; it was all instinctive to him. The side effect of such augmentation, which was never disclosed to him prior to leaving, was the constant, throbbing aches in his joints that were just bearable and the headaches that came and when more tenuously than the wind changing direction. They subsided almost completely when he found his ashikabi but came back like a tsunami wave when he forced himself to leave her. the only times the aches and pains were manageable were on his exercise runs or when he went out to get drunk. He had learned to live with them and almost ignore them but they were always there prepared to flare up and rack his body with pain.

He approaches the final building on his run that completes the large circle that loops back to his starting point. He clears the gap, unsheathes the bo staff from his back, snaps it to its full length and tenses his body to clear the 25 meter gap between buildings. Should he fail on this, there is a short, two-story building almost perfectly between the two, six-story ones but it would hurt like hell and he hates not meeting a goal he sets for himself. He approaches the ledge of the roof at a dead sprint, jams the bottom of the staff into the corner made by where the raised concrete meets the flat of the roof, allows the staff to bend under his weight, and launches himself like a pole vaulter over the wide gap. He is able to sail through the air to midway across the roof of the target building. He bends his knees slightly to absorb the impact, hits the roof with force, rolls to dissipate the pressure across his entire body and comes up perfectly on his feet after one graceful roll.

Instantly, he snaps the staff out with the majority of its length extended in front of him. He makes precise, firm movements as he fights off invisible enemies. He thrusts with deadly efficiently and swings the staff with killer intent. Had he actually had an opponent then they wouldn't stand a chance to hum. The seat begins to collect on his forehead and neck as he continues to practice his movements for the next hour under the blistering sun. He finally pauses with the tip of his staff jabbed up to where a mid-sized enemy's neck would be. He pants lightly from the forcefulness of his work out before returning back to his senses. He looks around the city taking in deep breaths. He sits down gently, cross-legged, hands on his knees. He proceeds to meditate deeply focusing solely on keeping his breathing steady and empties his entire mind. A peaceful darkness engulfs allowing his physical ache to dissipate and his mental and emotional anguish to subside. At times like these things came to him. It could be in the form of a memory or some kind of self-realization. He sits and waits for whatever it is today to come when he hears a voice pull him from his meditation.

"There's one, sis!" It's a harsh voice from behind him. He can feel the two sekirei approaching quickly about 10 meters behind him. He can hear them glide through the area as they race towards him. He feels the air change as electricity gathers and his targeted on him. At the last moment he springs forward dodging the blast from the lightning. He lands on his hands and springs himself forward again twisting through the air to land facing his assailants.

"Dammit, Hikari, why are you so loud? You gave us away!"

"Well, if you'd have attacked with me then maybe he wouldn't have been able to dodge, Hibiki!" He takes in his two attackers. They look almost the exact same, clearly twins. They wear the same leather, BDSM-style outfit with only the color different colors to distinguish between them. The one called Hikari wears a deep purple color whereas Hibiki's outfit is a pink that is closer to magenta. They stand next to each other both with a hand up with electricity gathering around them. Mamoru stares up at the two with disinterested eyes. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and slowly steps back to the ledge and sits down. He notices his pea coat where he left it, pulls a cigarette, and lights it.

"Hey! Don't ignore us! We're here to fight!" It's the one called Hikari that yells out. She seems to be the loud one of the two. Mamoru takes another long drag from his cigarette and blows the think plume of smoke through his nose and watches it waft away in the gentle breeze. "Aren't you gonna say anything!" Hikari is so angry that that he can see the veins start to pop out on her forehead. He chuckles to himself at the sight of her getting frustrated.

"Okay, who are you and why do you want to fight me?"

"I am No. 11: Hikari and this is my sister, No. 12: Hibiki. We fight for our own reasons and if you refuse then we'll just blast you into oblivion anyways." Mamoru stares up at them with an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes a final pull on his cigarette and tosses it off the roof. He stands, stretches, and draws his bo staff from its sheath. He allows his fingers to run over the small engraving on the end: No. 66. He lets his eyes linger on the engraving and snaps his staff out to its full length. It's an incredible weapon. It has the strength and durability of solid wood but the ductility of firm rubber and the ability to collapse like a metal staff. It's one of the many things that MBI created for him that he didn't understand the mechanics of. Things like these he chose to just accept and not question it. He gracefully spins the staff through his fingers, around his right hand, around his neck, and finally to his left.

"Very well. I am No. 66: Mamoru. If you're desperate for a fight, then I'll give you one. Feel free to make the first move." The twins are slightly taken aback and Hikari seems to have lost her ability to yell. He supposes that not many accepted a headfirst battle with them in this manner. They probably only fought sekirei that hadn't been winged yet judging by their manner. Well, this should be entertaining. He stands his ground, setting his feet for the first attack. Judging by what he's seen so far, they'll probably just go for a direct blast again. The two finally snap back to their senses and the charge the lightning in their hands. Just as he suspected: they are planning to try and overwhelm him with a direct shot. They unleash the blast with a load battle cry. Mamoru takes the bo staff in both hands and spins it in front of him at the speed rivaling that of a helicopter's blades. The concentrated lightning smashes into his barrier, spreads through the length of his staff, and is released in every direction at once. The shock burns his hands slightly but the pain is hardly noticeable. Still, he doesn't feel like taking another blast. The twins look on in shocked disbelief as their attack is made completely useless. They growl in their frustration and prepare a second blast.

Mamoru presses off his back foot and dashes towards the two lightning women. The concentrated electricity blasts the ground next to his feet as he sidesteps each attack. His eyes are locked on his two targets. A fear spreads across their faces and they leap back while continuing to fire blast after blast. They get less and less accurate as they begin to panic more and more. He plants the staff like he did earlier on his run and launches himself just like before. This time, however, he twists his body to dodge the two new blasts while simultaneously positioning himself for an attack. The adrenaline pumps through his veins and everything slows down. He sees the electricity gathering, predicts where the blast is aimed, and twists through the air to avoid it. The lightning blast tears through the air barely missing his back. The second is headed for his face. He watches it inch towards him and he moves his staff and cuts through the ball of electricity. Now he is just inches away from the two girls. His attack has to happen now; there's no way to dodge the next set of blasts. They bring their hands up and the blue streaks begin to collect. He twists one more time, extending his leg out connecting viciously with Hibiki's stomach. He spins the staff and brings it down on Hikari's shoulder. The two girls grunt from the blow and smash into the roof of the building behind them. They slam into the ground and slide a few feet before coming to a halt. Mamoru lands on the roof and immediately dashes at the two as they try to recover. Before they can bring their hands up for the next blast he is upon them. He steps between, crouches, hooks his staff between the knees of both girls and spins. The force easily knocks them off their feet and they hang in the air for a moment. Mamoru recovers, steps to the left around Hibiki's suspended body, and brings the staff down across both their stomachs in a crushing blow. They slam into the roof hard enough to bounce up a couple inches before coming to rest on the rooftop. Again, the sisters attempt to stand up but as they get to their knees they each feel two fingers pressed into the very top of their back where their crests are. The feeling cripples them with fear and they remain on one knee shaking from the fear. Hikari begins to shake with a silent sob knowing that this was then end for them.

"It's okay, Hikari." Hibiki attempts to console her sister but she can't hide the obvious shake in her voice from her own crippling despair. Mamoru doesn't even bother to look down at the twins as he stands there with his fingers pressed to their crests. Finally, he sighs and removes his fingers. The two sekirei stop their shaking and Hikari's sobs stop. Mamoru steps back and looks into the beaten faces of the two girls that look at him with an amusing expression of bewilderment. He allows a small chuckle to escape as he looks at them.

"Well, I win. Go home and get some rest, you two." He turns to walk away when Hibiki calls out to him.

"Wait, I don't get it. Why don't you finish us?" Mamoru doesn't even turn to look at them when he responds.

"Because what would be the fuckin' point?" He gives them a little wave before he leaps across to the building where his coat is hidden. The girls watch him with utter disbelief as he collapses his bo staff down and places it back in its sheath. He pulls his coat on, lights a cigarette, and disappears over the edge of the building. The two girls are paralyzed for a moment before falling into each others' arms and crying hysterically to each other. They would go on to take the rest of the day and the next day off work to recuperate and smother their ashikabi, Seo, with their undying love and affection to him. He never understood why they were so attached to him those two days but he enjoyed it all the same. Whether directly or indirectly, No. 66 had helped them remember how much they needed each other and that, despite all the hard times, they did need each other. That was partly the reason that he spared them and any other sekirei he encountered. He knows the hole in one's heart not being near the one the need the most and he, mostly for her sake, didn't want anyone else to feel that pain.


	2. Entering the City

"The day is almost here, Mamoru." Number 66 looks away from the hanging punching bag to the source of the voice. A woman that stands almost a full head shorter than he with medium length red hair enters the gym room of the compound that he has been staying for the past 16 years. She wears a short, black shorts that stop just below the curve of her toned, muscular ass. She wears specialized battle boots that have a hard, plastic protector plate that reach from the top of her feet to her knees. The knife belt extends from the where her skirt stops a couple inches down her legs and hold three rows of 20 cm long kunai layered on top of each other. Het top is a simple, loose-fitting tank-top with a grey vest over it which has special pockets sown in to hold an untold number of shuriken. Finally, she sports a pair of gloves with hard padding across the knuckles for her close-quarters combat. She dressed like he did: for function, not fashion. Her body is well-formed and strong. Her torso is thin and her stomach flat and hard. Her breasts have a good size to them without being too large for her body. Everything about her is muscular and strong. They have sparred so much over the years and there has almost never been a distinct victor. In fact, from an objective point of view she would have been the decided winner of the majority of their contests to date. He certainly had size and a longer reach but her speed was like nothing he had ever encountered before or since. He was rarely able to land firm punches. Even using his staff she was hard to attack. In the few times they used their respective weapons in battle he could never completely dodge her kunai. He would end up with minor cuts along his arms and legs. She was vicious in battle, especially with him. She always seemed to need to prove herself with him but outside of battle she was affectionate and caring to him. She was always distant to the adjusters and didn't seem to trust anyone else but him.

"Next week and we can leave. How are you feeling, 67?" She steps up to him and punches him hard but playfully in the arm.

"You know I hate it when you refer to me by my number. Call me by name or sister, big brother." A smile plays across his lips. Despite appearing the age of a seventeen-year-old girl that has fully developed she still acted like she did when she was 12. She never did really grow up but Mamoru finds it endearing in a way.

"Very well, Nerine. Have you decided where you're going when they open that door for you?"

"Well, I have some ideas but…" she slips off her vest and unsnaps her knife belts that are attached to her legs, a sign that she is preparing for a sparring session. Mamoru instinctively unclasps the sheath strapped across his chest and slides it across the floor. They slowly step to the large mat in the center of the gym.

"Alright then. One more time, for old time's sake." The take positions about six feet from each other. Each takes their respective starting positions and stares intensely at each other. When they step into this ring everything came second. They are very competitive, physical, and violent beings. Neither has ever held back in any fight. They hold their position for what seems like an eternity daring each other to make the first move with their eyes.

Nerine is the first to move. She dashes across the gap separating them with blinding speed. Before Mamoru can react and step away she is inches from him swinging her leg in a wide horizontal arc at torso level. Mamoru drops his arm and absorbs the impact with his elbow rather than take the brunt of the blow to his ribs. The kick throws off his balance. He allows himself to tip over, pushes off with his feet, does a handspring to widen the gap again, and lands squarely on his feet. His arm throbs from the blow but nothing is broken. He sets his feet for the next blow. Nerine is on him in an instant this time leaping into the air before bringing her heel to impact his skull. Mamoru drops to one knee to give himself a split-second longer, raises his hands, and grabs her by the ankle with both hands. He takes one hand, places it on the inside of her thigh, and uses her momentum to throw her to the other side of the ring. She twists through the air gracefully and lands on one foot as if she was never out of control. She had always been one for style. To her, fighting was like an intricate, adapting dance rather than a conflict that often turned bloody. That was her weakness: she liked to show off. Mamoru takes advantage of the extra moments it took for her to land to mount his own attack. He steps in tight to where she can't use her vicious kicks and jabs at her chest with his elbow. The blow lands but she able to make just enough distance between them for it to be effectively useless. He steps in tight to her body again, brings an arm up to block a wild punch from her, and jabs with his other fist. She moves her head slightly and dodges the entire blow. She takes hold of his arm, punches his the inside of his elbow forcing it to bend, spins behind is back, and forces his arm up into his back. She loops her arm around his neck and pulls tight. Mamoru wastes no time reaching back, grabbing her by the back of her shirt, kneeling, and pulling her forward off his back. She is light and it is easy to pull her off without much effort but there is almost no weight in his hand at all. He looks down and sees and empty shirt in his hand. His eyes travel and he sees Nerine standing in front of him topless. She stands with her legs crossed and her hands behind her head and her chest thrust out with a playful smile on her face.

"Oh, so you just wanted to take my shirt off, did you, big brother?" He had seen her before without clothes on but always from the back and it was after the exams by the adjusters. He never let his eyes linger on her; it wasn't proper. This is no different. He drops his eyes and instantly feels an explosion of pain travel through his jaw. He feels himself fly through the air and land on his back. Before he can register what has happened Nerine is on top of him pinning his arms down above his head. He opens his eyes to Nerine staring down at him and her breasts in view.

"That's pretty dirty of you, big brother. But you should never take your eyes off your opponent. You should know better." She seems to be blushing as she stares down at him but he assumes it's just the blow to the head he's taken. "I don't blame you for looking away but, truth is, I don't mind you looking." He can't tell if this is a joke or not but he's not going to lose to her in this last fight. In a flash he brings his knee up to her stomach and flings her off him. He leaps to his feet and dashes at her as she gains her balance again. When he is just steps away from her he flings the shirt still in his hand at her. She moves one arm up to knock it away leaving herself open for an attack. He connects a vicious uppercut that sends her flying up and back. He leaps into the air and brings both hands down like a club into her stomach. She bounces into the ground, flips back to her feet and tries to prepare for the next attack.

Mamoru is on her again in a flash. He throws punch after punch that she dodges haphazardly. He forces her into a position to where she can't block the occasional knee or punch. The fight has become more of a game of chess for him: sacrifice a blow here and there for the final shot down the road. After what feels like an eternity of this he gives her one final elbow to the chest that knocks her back to the ground where she stays gasping for breath. He retrieves her shirt, kneels next to her, and places it across her exposed body.

"I guess this one is mine." He blinks and she is behind him again. He doesn't bother making a move to stop her or attack her; he knows she's too weak to continue fighting. Then, he feels the cold blade against his neck. He is hit with a wave of frustration, not really anger, washes over him. She just can't let him win, can she?

"You realize that's cheating. We weren't using weapons."

"We never actually said that now did we?" Her voice is still playfully despite the frustration in his voice. "Trust me, big brother; always have an ace in the hole. In fact, you can have this one." She leans in to him so that her exposed breasts are against his back and her mouth is right behind his neck. She can feel her warm breath wash over his exposed skin and his body goes rigid. She drops the kunai and the tip of the blade sticks into the mat in front of him. She lingers for a second before finally standing, putting her shirt back on and walking away to the showers that are adjoined to the gym. He watches her walk away no understanding this last exchange. Just before she walks through the door she turns and looks at him with the same playful smile on her face.

"Oh, to answer your question from before: I'm thinking of joining the Discipline Squad. Mr. Minaka told me that we could both be in it and that we were sort of adjusted to be in it. So, I wanted to extend the offer to you." Her smile fades ever so slightly and she looks down at the floor. "They told me…we could be together if we both joined." A deep silence engulfs the gym for an eternity before she turns to walk into the shower room. She lifts a hand to wave to him. "Give it some thought, okay?"

Mamoru stands, stunned, alone in the middle of the ring. He had suspected of something like this was going on for a while now, in all honesty. She had been getting closer and closer to him in a physical sense. Not that she'd made an outright move on him; they were all subtle gestures and comments but recently they had become more and more obvious. This last one was a clear declaration: she no longer sees him as a brother but as some to be her lover.

He shakes his head, retrieves the kunai from the floor and heads towards the male showers. It's not natural, these feelings she has for him. They're siblings; they're not meant to be together in that sense. But that hasn't deterred, though. And now there's this invitation? It would be easier, certainly, but everyone has told him repeatedly that there was someone special out there that he was destined to be with. Someone that will make him happy, that will complete him. He wants that, desperately, but is it just because he was told by his adjuster all the time he wanted to? His head is cloudy, he needs a cold shower.

Days pass with these thoughts stirring his head. He has done his best to avoid Nerine but it hasn't been that hard. She knows what game she's playing and she's playing it well. She issued her offer and now she's keeping her distance to let them stew in his mind and decide if he could be without her. He asks his adjuster about the ashikabi and the Discipline Squad but none of his questions garner satisfactory answers. The whole idea of the ashikabi seems arbitrary but, as the adjuster often reminded him, that there is no way for him to describe it fully because he would never feel it. His adjuster kept telling him that it is something that Mamoru would have to experience on his own.

Finally, the day arrives for him and his sister to leave. Their adjusters are present as they stand side by side in front of the door that exits the compound and leads into the city. Mr. Minaka stands before them wearing the cape with the insane collar that he is infamous for. Neither had met Mr. Minaka prior to his and they both feel somewhat uneasy. Mamoru feels this way out of a certain level of distrust he has for the man that he can't define; Nerine is nervous due to immense respect.

"Congratulations, numbers 66 and 67, for being able to enter the real world behind these doors. You will enter a world foreign to you. You must learn to adapt and you must find your ashikabi as soon as possible. Find that person and fight for that person. That is your destiny. I wish you good luck in the days coming, my little feathers." He makes a dramatic turn to allow his cape to billow out behind him as he walks off to his private elevator to take him to the of his tower. The speech was so rehearsed it was pathetic. Mamoru shakes his head and looks over to his little sister. Her eyes have the faintest hint of tears of joy in the corner. He allows an audible sign and turns to his adjuster that has stepped up to him.

"So, Mamoru, Nerine has given us her answer but what is yours? Do you want to join the Discipline Squad along with 67?" His adjuster is a short man no taller than 5' 4" and a bit fat. He'd always seemed so goofy to Mamoru, especially when he tried to be serious like this. Mamoru has to force down a laugh as his adjuster tries to stare intensely as him through the thick-rimmed glasses that distort his eyes. He glances over to his sister. Her arms are crossed in front of her and she has an expectant smile tugging at her lips. Seeing her face only makes what he is about to say more difficult; she's so certain that he'll join her. he doesn't want to let her down but after a week of thought and many sleepless nights he had decided to leave. He turns back to the short doctor and takes a deep breath.

"I've decided to decline your offer to join the Discipline Squad." The only noise that follows his Nerine's gasp. The doctor simply nods and walks away. Mamoru turns to Nerine. Her hand is over her mouth and she has the clearest expression of someone who has been heartbroken. He curses himself in his mind and stands there awkwardly without anything to say. Finally, he opens himself to say he's sorry but she instantly slaps him across the cheek. In all their fights she had never once slapped him.

"Don't you say anything. Not a fucking word. You'd rather go out there and fight so little human…WHORE than be with me? What is it? Why don't you want to be with me forever? Why?" She begins to cry into her hands. Mamoru still can't think of anything to say and stands in front of her watching her cry until he hears the voice of the adjuster calling him over to the door for him to exit. He turns to walk to the door, stops, and turns back to Nerine.

"I'm sorry, Nerine. I will miss you and know that I do love you but as my little sister. I hope to see you again someday." He starts to walk to the door when he hears mumbling behind him. He turns to look back at Nerine and sees her face streaked with tears and the most vicious form of hatred on her face.

"I'll never forgive you. When that day comes, I won't fight fair and I'll fight to end you." Her words stab deep into his heart but his decision is made. He turns back to the door, now wide open with sunshine pouring through. He places his hand up to shield his eyes and steps out of the towering MBI building into an alleyway. He looks right and then left seeing hundreds of people passing by and not knowing which way he should go. He fishes the MBI credit card out of his pocket and decides the first thing is he should get some food to see what it tastes like out here. So, with no real direction in mind, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and begins his walk down the street.


	3. The Meeting with Homura

It's just another typical, drunken night for Mamoru. Tonight is more dreary due to the incessant downpour of rain that has been going on for the past two days straight. Tonight, instead of his normal perch atop one of the many towering skyscrapers of the city, he sits at a quiet, lonely bar with a glass of whiskey in front of him. He toys with the glass a little before tipping the remainder of the contents into his throat. His vision is already slightly blurred and he's only been here for about an hour or so.

The bar is quiet. It's not one of the many night clubs that are scattered about the city that are always packed with people. Instead, he has chosen a location with no more than seven or eight people scattered about the small building. The bar sits across from a wall that is completely glass giving a perfect view of the rainy view with just a pair of packed cabinets on either end of the bar packed with different types of liquor. Mamoru pulls one of his cigarettes from his pack and thanks who ever it is that people thank these days that smoking is allowed here. Just as he lights the cigarette, the bartender slides him an ash tray and another glass of whiskey. He nods his thanks and returns his attention to the view of the street. A few, isolated businessmen in suits hurry through the rain to where ever they're headed some with briefcases covering their heads others with just their coats pulled tightly around them. A mother runs down the street with her infant child to the bus that has just pulled to a stop at the corner. The door swings open to the bar and Mamoru can't help but turn to see who the new tenants are. It is a young man and who appears to be his girlfriend laughing about something or other as he closes the umbrella that he has used to keep them both dry as they traveled here. It is clear this isn't their final destination but it's as good a place as any to try and wait out the rain.

Mamoru takes in the rest of those drinking here. A group of three middle-aged men share one table all exchanging stories that seem to be getting funnier and funnier with each drink they order. A couple in their forties or so sit at an excluded corner booth with an expensive bottle of wine between them. The husband is leaning into his wife's ear whispering and the wife continues to grow more and more visibly red with each comment he makes. The new arrivals grab a random little table and the man orders up a pair of drinks as they continue to laugh about how they got stuck in the rain or whatever it was that was so funny. And small group of college girls sit around a table and quietly gossip over their bottle of sake that they are all too eager to drink. Mamoru turns back to his drink and cigarette and continue to enjoy both. There's nothing of interest here and that's just how he likes it.

The minutes tick by and turn into hours. The rain intensifies and subsides but never stop. People come and people leave most of them drunkenly stumbling out the door. The bar starts to gain more customers and becomes more lively but not packed by any means. Mamoru allows his mind to travel from the thought to the thought but not really focusing on anything in particular. Mamoru orders what he plans to be his last drink when someone steps up to the bar next to him, takes a seat and orders up a sake. The voice is oddly familiar to him and he turns his head to see who it is that seems to have joined him.

His drunken eyes take in a handsome, white-haired man in a black suit. The man waits for his sake patiently, drains the drink in one gulp, orders another, and finally turns to Mamoru. He smiles slightly, almost gently like that of a protector, and says "Good evening, Mamoru." The identity of the person finally comes to him. Mamoru allows a long, exasperated sigh escape him and turns back to his drink. Why tonight? In fact, why at all? Mamoru doesn't what to talk to anyone much less this person. He sips at his drink and does his best to ignore the man that has come to join him.

"Come on, Mamoru. Is this any way to treat and old friend."

"I'd hardly describe what we have as a friendship. All I owe you is a thanks for helping me out with that guy and his sekirei when I first left the compound. Hell, I'll buy your next drink to show it but I doubt we'd really call each other friends, Homura."

"Hey now. I'm not working. You can be a bit more friendly if you want."

"Fine. Kagari. What ever the hell you want to call yourself. Do you want that drink or not?"

"No, it's fine. I'm not staying too long. I just came to talk to you for a bit. Do you mind if we sit somewhere more private." Mamoru sighs again, stands, and motions for Kagari to follow him. They sit in a booth in one of the corners that are dimly lit. Neither say anything for a moment.

"I don't suppose you have any smokes on you, do you?" Mamoru asks Kagari. Kagari produces a half full pack, pulls two from it, and passes one to Mamoru. Mamoru starts patting his pockets for his lighter but in his current state he can't find it.

"Here," Kagari snaps his fingers and a small flame emanates from his thumb, "allow me." Mamoru leans forward and allows the flame to engulf the tip of his cigarette. Kagari lights his own and shakes his thumb to blow the small flame out. They both recline on opposite sides of the table from each other. They silently smoke their cigarettes for a moment and Mamoru toys with his glass still full of whiskey. Finally, the silence gets to Mamoru and he decides to break it.

"Okay, what is it you wanted to talk about, Kagari. This silence is killing my drunk."

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up since...you know."

"Well, I'm just fine until the country runs out of whiskey and cigarettes." Mamoru drunkenly snorts at his comment and a weak smile spreads across his mouth.

"Come on. I know why you drink and smoke. Why don't you go see her?" Mamoru's smile instantly disappears and he stares hard at the sekirei across from him. So, this is the meaning of Homura's "friendly visit"? Mamoru's grip on his drink tightens ever so slightly.


End file.
